Restricted
by agvwskwv
Summary: Sequel to "Adapt." The crew is setting out again, but the UEO is very concerned by aftereffects of the hostage situation. As a result, there are conditions the crew have to follow in order to remain intact. Again, ELF but focusing on all characters.
1. Chapter 1

Restricted

Chapter One

Hi, all! I am starting this sequel, hoping I can keep up with it and all my other obligations. I thank you in advance for your generous support, reviews, and patience! I love writing for this fandom, and I always enjoy your feedback; I hope you enjoy this new story!

-Hari

&&&&&

"So you're restricted to just working with Darwin?" Miguel leaned over the edge of his bunk to address his shore leave roommate, Lucas Wolenczak. "They can do that?"

"It's 'strongly suggested' and the computer systems jobs are totally off-limits," Lucas confirmed. "Noyce was really spooked by the whole thing, and I guess Captain Bridger decided that it was unfair or illegal or something to have me working outside of my official capacity on seaQuest."

"So, instead of _making_ that your official capacity, they tell you hands off?" Miguel demanded. "Why would they do that?"

"Look, I'm not complaining," Lucas responded quickly. "I was putting a lot of time into work for the captain and the seaQuest when I should have been working on research. I love computers, but all the weapons systems and responsibility around that – I don't like it, and I'm definitely not getting paid enough for it!"

"Heh," Miguel laughed in agreement. "That's true; hold out for more pay. But it still stinks that they won't let you on the bridge."

"Yeah," Lucas said quietly. "It's kind of weird. Even Darwin goes on the bridge."

"Sort of," Miguel shrugged, leaning back onto his bunk. He and Lucas had retired about an hour earlier, in anticipation of embarking on the seaQuest early the next morning. However, despite their best intentions, they had been unable to sleep and had begun hashing over the policy changes implemented since the seaQuest's hijacking several months earlier. The submarine had since been refitted and the crew given adequate time to rest and begin to recover from the ordeal, and with only the addition of a live-in psychologist and a team of journalists, the crew would be resuming their tour with minimal personnel changes. However, it seemed that the policy changes would more than make up for the stability provided by the continuity of the crew itself.

"Well, that's more than I will be," Lucas grimaced.

There was a knock on the door of the hotel room.

"What is it?" Miguel called.

"Go to sleep, you two," Commander Ford responded through the door. "We ship out in five hours and I want you to make a good impression on our new computer systems specialist. That goes doubly for you, Lucas."

"I'm asleep," Lucas called out to the commander.

There was silence for a moment, while Ford decided how to respond to the petulant teenager. Ultimately, he chose the option Lucas had hoped to avoid. "Look, I know this is difficult for you, but we don't have a choice. Just be patient while Captain Bridger sorts this out, all right, Lucas?"

"I _don't_ mind," Lucas protested. "It's about time I got a break, anyway."

"Be patient," Ford didn't buy Lucas' insistence for a moment. "And try not to make Carter's job a hassle."

"Will you stop shouting out here?" Ben Krieg's voice joined Jonathan's in the hallway. "Some of us are trying to sleep. And Lucas probably doesn't need you giving him any ideas."

"Goodni-ight," Lucas drawled, hoping to get rid of the senior officers – and their scrutiny.

"I'm serious, Lucas," Ford tapped the door for emphasis, and then both he and Ben left.

"_That_ was productive," Ortiz rolled noisily onto his side and peered down at Lucas again. "So, what are you planning to do to Carter? You can tell me." Miguel grinned wolfishly.

"Shut up and go to sleep." Lucas reached over to flip off the lights. "Carter can do his job in peace. I have no issue with him."

&&&&&

"So I have every intention of enforcing policy," Tobias Carter informed Captain Bridger as they ordered coffee in anticipation of a long, involved embarking process.

"Excellent," Nathan responded neutrally, not acknowledging the challenge in Carter's tone.

"That means I will be watching, and reporting on a daily basis to-,"

"I know," Bridger interrupted sharply. "And as I just said, that is 'excellent.'"

"I know you," Tobias eyed Bridger as he accepted his hot coffee from the cashier and reached for cream. "And you're going to fight me every step of the way. Don't let's pretend otherwise."

Bridger blinked. The man was openly goading him, in public. Nathan was tempted for a brief moment to ask, 'do you know who I am?' but decided against it. He had promised many things in exchange for retaining Lucas as a researcher on the submarine after all the fallout from the hostage situation, and civility seemed a small sacrifice when Bridger imagined Lucas' reaction to being asked to leave the crew. However, if Tobias was willing to cross the line into incivility, then Bridger felt more than ready to respond.

"This boat was held hostage once before, Mr. Carter," Nathan accepted his own coffee with a polite smile. "Don't think that its crew is likely to allow that to happen twice."

Tobias Carter met Bridger's level gaze with a glare. It was true; he did know Bridger. He knew that Nathan's words were no idle threat, and he knew that he would be in for a fight if he did find anything on the boat worth reporting. Nevertheless, Tobias believed with all his heart that absolute power corrupted absolutely – and he had long been uncomfortable with Bridger's autonomous control of the UEO's most deadly and most promising resources. Not to mention Bridger's aversion to any form of accountability.

'This will be one interesting boat ride,' Tobias thought to himself. He was suddenly eager to meet the UEO's other loose cannon, young Wolenczak. 'Might as well get it all out in the open right away.'

&&&&&

"Tim!" Lucas bounded up to his older crewmate in the corridor, balancing his military-issue duffel on his shoulder. "How was Paris?"

"Great, Lucas!" Tim greeted Lucas warmly, setting down his own duffel to give Lucas an affectionate hug. "My French accent is improving, and I met some marine biologists who helped me certify on some of the new deep-sea equipment we have onboard now. How was your leave?"

"Boring mostly, but I got to meet Recombinant Corpse after their concert," Lucas reported. "It was awesome!"

"Did Miguel go with you?" Tim laughed at the name of the band. "It sounds right up his alley."

"Yeah," Lucas nodded. "He was pretty into it."

"Nice," Tim picked up his duffel again and began walking with Lucas toward the crew's quarters. "You going to hook up a stereo system for him this tour?"

"Uh," Lucas glanced at Tim guiltily, "any particular reason you're asking?" It had become common knowledge that Lucas had used the ship's computer systems to create and power his own stereo before the boat had been refitted – but there had never been any question but that it was unsanctioned. And, until he knew what he was dealing with, Lucas wanted to keep his head down around the new computer systems specialist.

"I wondered if you'd help me out as well, actually," Tim laughed nervously. "I picked up some music in France, and I wondered-,"

"Sure, no problem!" Lucas grinned. "I'll get settled and see what I can do for you."

The two entered the new common area that Bridger had designed for the refit boat. The quarters for the majority of the crew were accessible through three hallways that branched off from the large sitting room. In the room, which had been designed as an alternative to the mess hall for socializing, were several couches and chairs, low tables, and two vid-screens.

"Not too shabby," Lucas observed. "I'm down the left hall, I think."

"I'm down the lockdown hallway," Tim pointed straight ahead, across the room. It had been designed as part of a panic-room-style, detachable section of the submarine – a fact which was an unpleasant reminder to crewmembers of their previous vulnerability to terrorist attack. "Lucky me."

"I'll come check it out after I move in," Lucas offered. He didn't envy Tim's position; apparently there would even be drills, which would involve crewmembers flooding into the lockdown hall – and Tim's personal space. "I bet those rooms are better than the others; only senior officers are in there."

"I can only hope," Tim shrugged and headed down his hall.

Lucas turned down his own hall, which was populated by several crewmembers moving into their own quarters. Lucas quickly located his own room, about halfway down the corridor, and opened the door.

The room was slightly larger than his old room, but Lucas immediately noted the absence of any aquatube access, computer interface, or exposed hardware that he could use to install his stereo or other electronic equipment. Lucas dropped his bag on the floor and left the room untouched.

&&&&&

"Captain?"

Bridger was surprised and pleased to see Lucas approach him in the mess hall. "Lucas! Good to see you; have you seen your room yet?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm here to talk about," Lucas answered. "It doesn't have any of the stuff we talked about."

"What?" Captain Bridger was silent for a moment, puzzled. "We are talking about the stereo hookup, interweb, and access to Darwin, correct? And closet space if I could swing it?"

"I didn't look for a closet," Lucas stated, "but the rest of it definitely isn't there."

"That's impossible," Bridger protested. "You must have been assigned to the wrong room."

"No, he wasn't."

For the first time Lucas noticed the man sitting with Bridger.

"What do you mean? Who are you?" Lucas demanded.

"I'm Toby Carter." The man looked Lucas over. "And you are not supposed to have access to technology unsupervised."

"Now just a minute," Bridger jumped in before Lucas could give voice to the anger that was rapidly crossing his face. "What do you mean, Carter? That certainly wasn't part of the deal. I'm reassigning you to room 217, Lucas, effective immediately."

"That's impossible," Tobias argued. "How am I supposed to report that you are not having him work with computer systems if you're putting them in his quarters? The bridge ban is meaningless under those circumstances. And he's a minor, so having him constantly on-call for the aquatube and vocorder systems almost automatically violates child labor laws."

"Operative word being 'almost,'" Bridger responded drily. "And why would it be 'impossible' to put him in room 217?"

"Aside from my concerns?" Tobias looked up at the teenager, who was visibly restraining himself, but appeared more than ready to begin shouting. "I've already moved in there. It suits my needs nicely."

"You know what?" Lucas' eyes had widened in affronted shock and he suddenly spun on his heel and began striding away. "Just keep it."

"Lucas!" Bridger called after the teen, but Lucas didn't stop. The captain turned on Carter angrily. "You have no right to make that call, and certainly no right to appropriate his personal quarters! I want you out of there by 0900 hours, and that's an order."

"And the fact that the quarters I was originally assigned have no computer access whatsoever?" Tobias retorted, "Am I supposed to overlook that? You gave that kid more consideration than you did your official computer systems specialist. I can only assume it was a mistake, or misguided attempt at parenting at best – open sabotage of my work at worst."

Bridger opened his mouth to protest, but Tobias continued.

"If you can find me a room that has equal access to the computers, I'll move. In the meantime, Lucas seems to be willing to remain in his current quarters. I suggest you adopt his attitude for the time being."

"I'll look into access for you," Bridger fairly growled, "but I want you ready to move out of that room by 0900 hours, regardless."

Tobias sighed deeply. "Yes, sir."

&&&&&


	2. Chapter 2

Restricted

Chapter Two

Thanks for the kind reviews! Enjoy!

-Hari

&&&&&

"Katie!" Miguel Ortiz had moved into his quarters two hours after the majority of the crew, having been assigned to processing room assignments and troubleshooting the embarking process along with Commander Ford. After an exhausting, error-ridden morning, Miguel was ready for a friendly face. Unfortunately, he realized too late, Katie did not look very friendly.

"What, Miguel?" Katie asked flatly.

"I, uh," Miguel backpedaled, "nothing. Just thought I'd say hi."

"Miguel, do I _look_ like I need a weapons specialist onboard? Or lethal weapons?" Katie abruptly demanded.

"Is this a trick question?" Miguel sincerely wished he hadn't stopped Katie as he realized the depths of her anger – and the depths of his ignorance about whatever had set her off. "Because I definitely think you're doing just fine without any weapons at all."

"Honestly!" Katie threw her hands in the air exasperatedly. "Has everyone gone nuts? This wasn't even a consideration before the coalition got their hands on seaQuest; our ethical standards should not have changed!"

"No, they should not," Miguel responded, glad to have the opportunity to agree with the irate officer. He smiled awkwardly as silence descended on the corridor and the two officers.

"Well, this Shan fellow had better not get in my way," Katie finally spoke, shaking her head vehemently. "Lethal weapons! We can't defend ourselves properly if we're worried about killing people."

"Surely not," Miguel nodded encouragingly. "But who's Shan?"

"He's your boss too, whenever sensors get involved in anything 'potentially hostile,'" Katie responded testily. "You'd better look into him."

"What?" Ortiz began following Katie as the commander started walking down the corridor toward the officers' quarters in the lockdown area. "What qualifies as potentially hostile?"

"I don't think there's an answer to that question," Katie responded bitterly. She seemed to take pleasure in Miguel's discomfiture, though it didn't appear to allay her own anger one bit.

"I see," Miguel replied. "Apparently there's a lot more new policy I need to read up on."

"No kidding," Katie retorted. "And have you heard about Carter? He's a total jerk."

"Really?" Ortiz sighed. "Somehow I'm not surprised. This isn't shaping up to be our best tour, is it? Where is he from?"

"MIT," Katie shrugged. "Some hotshot computers guy – he probably has jurisdiction over the WSKRS; you'd better find that out, too."

"Wait, is his name Toby?" Miguel stopped Katie with a hand on her arm. "Toby Carter, from MIT? Graduated a year after I did, but without the grades to make seaQuest?"

"You went to school with him?" Katie's anger seemed to take a backseat to her curiosity at this new information.

"We roomed together for two years, while the military put me through school," Miguel nodded when Katie's eyes widened in disbelief. "We've been corresponding since graduation. He and I are friends."

"Can you talk to him?" Katie asked eagerly.

"Sure," Miguel shrugged easily. "We're old friends. No problem."

"Wow," Katie smiled slightly, both amazed and relieved by the coincidence. "Thanks."

"Maybe things will look up for you now," Miguel grinned. "And maybe things will look up for this tour of duty."

"We can only hope."

&&&&&

"So you're condoning his actions?" Nathan Bridger demanded of Bill Noyce via vidscreen.

"I'm just saying that he has a point – for the time being," Noyce added hastily. "I'll keep on the committee to reevaluate Wolenczak as soon as possible. If he keeps his nose clean, maybe three months from now-,"

"Three months?" Bridger's voice rose angrily. He paused, tried to compose himself, then continued more calmly. "Not any sooner?"

"I'm afraid not," Noyce shook his head. "I'm sorry, but the PR surrounding a sixteen-year-old who could have destroyed entire nations with codes only he knew? Three months is not even close to what the alarmists are calling for. They want him off seaQuest, out of UEO territories, barred from the military-,"

"I get the picture," Bridger ran a hand through his short hair. "We need good PR."

"You need time," Noyce corrected the captain. "But yes, good PR would be nice."

"In the meantime?" Bridger asked. "I stick him in a walk-in closet?"

"Or a regular set of quarters, Nathan," Bill was losing patience with Bridger's dramatics. "Just don't put anything special in Lucas' room that might attract attention."

"Fine," Bridger sighed. "But until this all blows over, nobody's staying in his quarters. I designed them specifically for him!"

"Perfectly reasonable, Nathan," Noyce responded. "Carter should be able to make do in other quarters, as long as you give him some sort of computer access."

"Great," Nathan wound up the conversation. "I'm sure you'll be hearing from me frequently this tour."

"It's always a pleasure; you know that," Noyce smiled gamely. "This too will pass. You know it will."

"You're right," Nathan nodded wearily. "Thanks."

&&&&&

Two women and a very tall man sat in the lounge area near the crew quarters. Their luggage piled up around them, signaling both that they had not yet located their quarters – and that they were not affiliated with the military and its stringent guidelines regarding personal items onboard seaQuest.

Murphy, fingering his camera as he idly rocked its case back and forth between his knees, seemed particularly impatient with the group's sojourn on the couch.

"Calm down, Murph," Cassandra Miley, a reporter of five extremely high-profile years, soothed her good friend. It was no secret that Cassie had secured the competitive position as embedded journalist aboard seaQuest and that Murphy had been added as an afterthought, due almost entirely to his connection with the reporter. While Murphy had insisted that it didn't bother him, Cassie felt the need to run interference at the slightest sign of agitation on the young photographer's part. "Commander Ford will get here anytime with our room numbers and information about the schedule."

"He's fine, Cassie," Martha Weaver, an older journalist who had spent many years as a "conflict correspondent" for the UEO lent the trio a balancing factor of age, experience, and maturity. She had enjoyed the company of her new colleagues so far, but she could already sense that what their youthful energy lent them was almost entirely detracted by their impetuousness or, in other instances, their uncertainty. "Murph, get a few shots of people moving in and then put that thing away. We're embedded journalists, not a film crew."

"Ye-ep," Murphy whipped his camera up, snapping digital photos continuously as he stood and walked toward one of the hallways populated with people moving into their quarters.

Cassie watched as a couple of seaQuest's crewmembers looked up in annoyance, and a woman's expression changed rapidly to one of recognition. "Uh-oh," Cassie nudged Martha, ready to point out the potential trouble, but was interrupted.

"You must be Ms. Weaver," A pleasant-looking officer stepped in front of the couch where the two writers sat. "I'm Jonathan Ford, and I apologize for my lateness, but as you've probably noticed it has been hectic getting everyone where they need to be."

"Thank you, yes," Martha stood and shook Jonathan's hand. "This is Cassie."

Commander Ford accepted Miley's proffered hand enthusiastically, and then gestured for the journalists to precede him down the corridor opposite the lounge area from the corridor that Murphy had headed toward.

"Murphy, we're moving in," Cassie called to her friend.

"Oh, of course," Ford moved to meet Murph as he crossed the room. "You're Thaddeus Murphy; I've seen your work."

Murphy managed to simultaneously grin at the compliment of recognition and grimace at the use of his first name. The combination of expressions, along with his imposing height of six feet, seven inches, seemed to distract the commander for a moment before the officer recovered his composure.

"Just 'Murphy,' and I hope you saw my recent work," Murphy's grimace disappeared, allowing his features to relax into a bright grin. "My early stuff's not worth crap."

"Uh," Ford had to take another moment to compose himself as he watched Murphy stoop to grab two large duffel bags and a huge suitcase from a sofa. "I'm sure all your photography is good, based on what I saw. It was a series of water art, photographed while in progress."

"Oh." Murphy smiled politely. It had been a mock-artistic effort that had impressed a professor in college; Murph had sarcastically bet a friend that if she painted stones with water and he photographed it before it dried, then he'd receive an A from a particularly difficult professor who was only impressed by abstract premises and rarely by photography in any form. Murphy had received the A, and the professor had insisted that his series be displayed and later published. Murphy had felt that the whole thing was an embarrassment and a form of selling out, but was primarily mortified by his own positive reaction to the praise he still received for the series.

"Well," Ford gestured down the corridor and quickly pointed out their rooms, "You're located very centrally and close together, so I don't think you'll have any trouble moving in and getting around. You probably already know that you can't go on the bridge without an escort, but otherwise feel free to explore unless someone specifically asks you to leave an area."

"Thank you, Commander," Weaver smiled in gratitude, pushing open the door to her quarters. "I'm sure we'll settle in just fine. Will we see you at dinner?"

"Depending on when you eat, you might," Ford returned Martha's smile. He had been against the idea of having any sort of journalists on seaQuest, but had relented when the writers had been negotiated as an alternative to wider press coverage of the hostage situation – and Ford had been even more won over when a photographer he admired had been selected as part of the team. Now, meeting the trio, Ford sensed that the journalistic crew might work out even better than he'd anticipated. "Seven o'clock?"

"Certainly," Martha nodded and disappeared into her room.

Ford left the other two to explore their quarters, and Murphy excitedly discovered a computer access point in his room.

"Cassie, we have access to communications in my room!" Murph crowed into the hall.

"That's great!" Cassie called back across. "But mine is way better. There's a dolphin in here!"

"What?" Murph bounded across the hall, narrowly avoiding a scientist who had the misfortune to be walking down the corridor at that moment. "'Scuse me," Murph managed as he dashed into Cassandra's room.

Murphy stopped dead in the center of Cassie's room. The entire far wall of her quarters appeared to be the side of a narrow tank, barely wide enough to comfortably accommodate the dolphin who peered in at the two journalists.

"It's an aquatube system – the newest version, just refitted for the seaQuest," Cassie explained breathlessly. "Only twenty of the personal rooms onboard have this sort of access. It's incredible!"

"Twenty, huh?" Murph shrugged nonchalantly, his manner belied by his awed expression. "I guess that means that nobody will be peeping in here through the tank, then. Always good."

"Murph," Cassie shook her head with a grin. "Don't be so jealous all the time. You can visit the dolphin in here anytime you want."

"A dolphin," Murph grinned. "In your room. This is going to be good."

&&&&&


	3. Chapter 3

Restricted

Chapter Three

By Hari

Enjoy…!

&&&

Three days later, Lucas found that he had hit a wall with his research. Essentially, as he was forced to admit to himself, he'd hit a form of writer's block where it came to his research with Darwin. As much as Bridge duty had seemed to interfere with his scientific work, Lucas began to realize, it had also lent a sense of urgency to the hours he did devote to his own work – and it gave him an outlet to exercise different parts of his imagination, which fed his development of communication with the dolphin. True, Lucas had been hard at work on several tricky linguistic subtleties that he had simply needed more time to perfect… but, three days into his heavy-duty schedule of research, he had completed a system for automatically translating several of Darwin's more sophisticated concepts into compound nouns. With this system, Lucas felt it was a matter of tweaking and adapting it to effectively translate all of Darwin's complex non-human ways of describing his world, and as such it was less a challenge than a data-entry project. One that Lucas could delegate.

So, feeling aimless and resentful, Lucas decided to see what he could do to amuse himself and hopefully inspire his next phase of research: he began swimming long hours with Darwin.

"I need inspiration," Lucas complained to Darwin as he slipped into the water with the dolphin. "I want to find something you really have no way of explaining to me, and then figure out how to translate it. That's all." Lucas smiled ruefully at his tall order, and Darwin simply replied:

"Lucas play. Work later."

"Yeah, relax and let my brain work it out for itself," Lucas replied. He often spoke to Darwin this way, assuming that the dolphin understood his complex linguistic patterns, and that the dolphin thought similarly, but unable to fully express Darwin's presumed complex ideas through the Vocorder – as of yet, anyway. "Race you!"

Lucas dove under the water and pushed off from the edge of the moonpool, swimming doggedly toward an aquatube that he knew passed near the Bridge. Perhaps the proximity to his former place of work would help, Lucas mused absently as he stroked through the cold ocean water. Darwin followed, keeping pace and watching for an opening to pass the teenager easily; the dolphin was noticeably competitive with the youth, despite his obvious superior ability in the water. Lucas appreciated it – he wasn't sure he could have taken it if the dolphin had taken it easy on him… or, worse still, let him win.

Of course, winning was difficult since Lucas wasn't sure where they were heading. As he wound through the aquatubes, surfacing for air briefly before swimming on blindly, he realized he had gotten lost.

'Left, right, left, left,' Lucas thought to himself, 'Then another left, or did I go straight at the three-way branch? I know a took a right after that, but…' It didn't matter; Lucas could keep swimming and peer out of any observation area he passed. It was just tempting to figure out his own location from memory, as it was proving the best challenge he'd had in a while. 'If I'd take a left, I'd be coming up on-,'

Lucas' thoughts were interrupted as he rounded a sharp bend in the tube and was confronted by Darwin's access port on the Bridge itself.

'Oh. I guess it _was_ a left,' Lucas was shocked into motionlessness as he held his breath and considered the open hatch eight feet away from his position. 'Bridger isn't on duty…' Lucas grinned suddenly, propelling himself forward through the water and surfacing exuberantly. He shook his hair out and relished the entrance he had just made on the Bridge.

"Hey, Miguel!" Lucas wiped water from his eyes and looked up at his shocked friend. "Commander Ford!"

Everyone on the Bridge had frozen, staring at the access pool.

"Um, Lucas?" Commander Ford was uncharacteristically taken aback. "What are you doing?"

At that moment Ortiz burst into laughter. "Lucas, you found a way to be on the Bridge, just like Darwin! Is this part of your research? A day in the life of Darwin or something?"

Tim was chuckling quietly from his station, watching this unfold, but instantly stiffened to attention when Ford glanced in his direction.

"I'm just… swimming," Lucas grinned. "Thought I'd drop in. That's ok, right? I'm not actually on the Bridge as long as I stay in the pool."

"Lucas," Ford seemed torn, fighting a smile even as his brow knit with concern. "Should I be worried about the fact that you made your first appearance here when the captain was off-duty?"

"A coincidence," Lucas waved a hand dismissively. "He won't mind."

"I'm sure he won't," Everyone was startled when a new voice came from the open clam doors to the Bridge. Tobias strode over to Commander Ford purposefully, giving him a stern glance before refocusing his attention on Lucas. "But that doesn't mean that the decision will be made that easily. You are banned from the Bridge, Lucas."

Miguel watched Lucas' jaw drop, and quickly interceded. "Hey, Toby, he's just swimming around and visiting – he's worked on the Bridge for a while, and we all miss him. What harm could it do?"

Tobias turned to Miguel. He remembered his former roommate well, though the two had not had a chance to catch up yet. "Ortiz," Tobias Carter intentionally used the officer's surname to make his point clear, "You will address me as 'Officer Carter' and he will refrain from breaching his restrictions in any way, however clever; they are generous as it is, and they can and will be revoked if he takes advantage of the UEO's generosity."

Miguel's jaw dropped. He had not imagined that Tobias would brush him off, let alone pull his arguably superior rank on the sensors specialist. "Excuse me?"

"Ortiz," Ford was standing stiffly at attention, unconsciously mirroring O'Neill's response to his own actions; the Commander had already become acquainted with Carter's approach to seaQuest policy enforcement. "You are out of order."

"Aye, sir. Sorry, sir." Miguel immediately stepped back, his precision and force clearly bespeaking his irritation, signaling hiss removal from the conversation.

"I guess I'll go, then," Lucas had overcome his initial shock at Tobias' sudden appearance and the way in which all the superior officers had fallen in line with his edict. Feeling the lack of support or protection keenly, the teenager unconsciously slipped into a blank facial expression that Miguel recognized: Lucas' later days as a hostage had often found him standing on the Bridge, wearing the expression while the terrorists who had held the seaQuest lectured the teen endlessly, attempting to wear down his impressive mental resolve and fortitude.

"Wait," Miguel broke away from years of training, stepping forward toward his de facto superior and former friend, "Carter, I think this is a bit much. Look, we've all been through quite a bit, and it wouldn't hurt if some routines were maintained, don't you think?"

Miguel shot Lucas a brief, worried glance. Lucas' eyes met Miguel's with what appeared to be a faint shimmer of relief; perhaps, Miguel hoped, a sign that the teen recognized that he was not without support or friends in this situation. The boat was under the control of those who cared about Lucas' well-being, and they were not going to let that change.

"No, I do not, Ortiz, and you are relieved pending my approval of your reinstatement to Bridge duty. Report to Deck C and tell Lieutenant Shan that I ordered you there. He'll put you to work until I have time to review this matter with you." Tobias was already turning toward Lucas and away from Miguel as he finished speaking.

"Aye, sir," Miguel choked out automatically, giving Ford a look of fury and frustration as he exited the Bridge. Ford met Miguel's glance evenly, hoping the specialist would leave quietly and not make the situation any worse – but he could not deny his own guilt as Miguel's anger gave way to disappointment when he saw that Ford would not countermand Carter's order.

Lucas watched the exchange in horror. Feeling profoundly guilty, helpless, and suddenly angry, he snapped at Carter: "You keep that up, and this boat is going to end up at the bottom of a trench, sunk by your incompetence!"

"Is that a threat?" Carter snarled, his nostrils flaring. He had begun to sense that resentment was giving way to rebellion, a line he did not want to cross during this tour of duty, but in this moment he could only see responding decisively; it was far too early on the tour to show weakness. He'd be exploited for the rest of the voyage.

"No," Commander Ford spoke up at this point, smoothly and with a calm he did not feel. "Lucas was just leaving and expressing his wish that you have a safe tour with the seaQuest. _Right, Lucas?_"

"Sure," Lucas responded to Ford's warning tone with a calmer response, if less than satisfactory to all concerned. "I'm outta here."

Lucas turned immediately and dove out of sight; his feet surfaced once, kicking viciously to splash Carter from head to toe, but then he was gone.

Tobias gave the crew a glare that dared them to comment on his actions, looking around the Bridge, but inwardly he felt shaky and was beginning to have doubts about his ability to interact positively with the crew. 'That was a kid goofing off,' Toby thought in confused consternation. 'I shouldn't have had to dismiss our head sensors specialist over a simple _prank_.' He felt out of sorts for several long moments before he decided to pay a visit to the ship's new psychologist to discuss strategies for working with the crew more effectively. Clearly, their issues ran more deeply than he'd anticipated.

Feeling confident once again, Tobias turned on his heel and strode off of the Bridge without another word.

The crew breathed a sigh of relief.

&&&&&

"Jonathan," Katie Hitchcock came jogging up the corridor to meet Ford and O'Neill as they got off Bridge duty that evening, "what in the world happened?"

When Tim saw Katie approaching, he immediately began signaling her not to start the conversation he could see she was bursting to have: he made a cutting gesture across his throat exaggeratedly, from his position behind the commander.

Katie spared Tim a skeptical glance. "Shut up, O'Neill. I want to hear why he didn't say anything when Carter _dismissed Miguel from Bridge duty indefinitely_." Katie's glare left no room for misinterpretation: she was only waiting for Ford to dig his hole deeper, and then she fully intended to move in for a conversational kill.

"Katie," Ford slumped almost imperceptibly as he answered her, "I have to go learn to kill efficiently with our new weapons so that I can train you and the rest of the crew the key differences between a lethal weapons systems policy and procedure and our previous one. We can talk over dinner in two hours if you'd like."

"You're being trained first?" Katie was astounded and simultaneously furious that she was not the first trained and relieved – she would rather not use the systems at all, and any delay was preferable to shooting a lethal weapon with intent, in her mind. "Why was I not informed?"

"Carter," Ford shrugged. "You know that there is a lot at stake. All of our positions, including Bridger's, and Lucas is first in line to the chopping block."

Katie gaped at this terribly uncharacteristically dark perspective, even from the especially sober commander. "Are you suggesting we just give in to whatever he demands?"

"We are in a bad position," Ford responded cautiously, "to negotiate. I'm suggesting we find leverage before we make a move."

Tim, who had leaned against the bulkhead and covered his eyes with one hand in consternation when Katie had plowed ahead with her conversation, looked up with renewed interest at this new information. "Really? We're planning something?"

Both Katie and Jonathan turned to Tim with identical expressions: _Shhhhh_.

"Got it," Tim raised his hands defensively, but his posture was suddenly alert and a small smile crept over his face. "I get it."

"Get what?" Ben Krieg came barreling down the corridor at that moment. "I'm on duty for some reason; who's sick? What's up with half the Bridge crew hanging out in the hall?"

"Keep it down, but we may need some shavers," Ford began to move past Katie, Tim close behind, but he dropped a hand on Ben's shoulder significantly as he added, "This is not a boat that will be taken hostage lightly."

"Ah," Ben looked worriedly from one face to the next. "You're not talking about the censorship of the holovids, are you? Because I found a way around Carter on that one."

Ford snorted, inexplicably amused by the simultaneous right and wrong guess on Krieg's part.

"Something like that, Ben, you've got the right idea," Katie supplied. "We'll keep you informed."

"Great!" Ben nodded happily at his dispersing crewmates. "I was getting bored, anyway."

&&&&&

Martha and Cassie were finishing a short workout together in the recreation area, chatting about their lack of a feature piece with which to lead their series of articles about the seaQuest crew. It had been a frustrating few days, as everything seemed to operate with military precision and none of the usual drama of living in close quarters with common purposes that were often not terribly common at all.

"I still don't think we're going to get anything good about O'Neill, but Ortiz definitely has something we can work with – just not in time for the first story. He'll require more digging. Ford is too straightforward. I keep coming back to either Katie or Lucas," Cassie brainstormed aloud.

"Either of which would be predictable," Martha echoed Cassandra's frustrated tone. "The highest-ranked female officer aboard, or the youngest member of the crew by far; and we know the captain has an ax to grind with Lucas, so my advice is to stay far away from him if we can. Who knows what might be fed to us to help publicize that kid, and we don't want to be played by the crew for who-knows-what kind of fools."

"Can we go swimming with the dolphin, then?" Cassie brought up a topic that was already becoming old for Martha: Cassandra wanted to write about Darwin, the other far-too-obvious subject for their first feature piece. Well, Cassandra wanted to spend time with Darwin, at least, and that was the perfect excuse to do so and get paid for it.

Sighing deeply with mock-longsuffering, Martha cracked a smile. "Why not?" She replied. "We can give the public what they want, just this once, and get this out of your system once and for all. I'd never swum with a dolphin either, you know."

The two exited the weight room with the lightness of two compulsive workers who had finally decided to take a much-needed break. They were met in the hall by a far less compulsive comrade who had had the same impulse.

"Need a break, you two?" Murph was striding up the hall. "I want to take photos of you for my behind-the-scenes photog."

"That is the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard, Murphy," Martha said dryly, smiling at the tall man swinging his camera suggestively with a grin. "But we are going to go swimming with Darwin and might feature him in our first piece. It's due in two days, you know, so a few photos on file would be a good idea."

"Excellent!" Murph lit up. "That will be great! Can you wear wetsuits? That would show up nicely and lend a more official look to my photog. I can't publish photos of you for the piece of course, being embedded and all," Murph's expression betrayed his disagreement with Martha's decree on this point: the crew was to be invisible in their stories, and that included all published photographs, "but it would be dynamic to have you uniformed, as it were, in my own records."

"We have to be in wetsuits," Cassie informed Murph. "The water's too cold otherwise. We're down pretty deep, you know."

"Great! I'll go get set up and meet you there!" Murph headed off to his quarters to retrieve his tripod and some underwater lenses, and the women headed directly to the Moonpool to get wetsuits and to change.

&&&&&

In the Moonpool, Lucas had returned from his foray into the aquatubes, and although his body was getting tired from all the swimming, his adrenaline was pounding as a result of his frustration and anger.

"Come on Darwin, I'll race you," Lucas gasped out as he surfaced for air in the Moonpool, setting his sights on the far end of the open space of water.

"Darwin race," the dolphin echoed enthusiastically.

Lucas pushed himself across the water, feeling a burn and an endorphin high as he did so; he almost felt like he could beat the dolphin as he swam, although Darwin was already speeding ahead of him. Lucas sped through the water, opening his eyes to glimpse the bottom of the pool, but pulled up short when he saw a pair of feet directly in his path.

"Whoa!" Lucas surfaced to find Miguel directly in front of him, with outstretched arms ready to stop the teen in the water.

"I didn't think you saw me," Miguel laughed. "You're fast."

"Yeah, I almost didn't see you," Lucas looked up almost shyly, acutely aware of the scene on the bridge only half an hour earlier. "Is this what Shan wanted you to do?"

"Well, no," Miguel shrugged. "Shan's training with Ford and O'Neill on something, so he said I should just work out and take the time off until Carter reinstates me or whatever."

"Sweet," Lucas said flatly, watching Miguel closely for any sign of resentment or discontent. He didn't see any, but his crewmate was so even-tempered that he doubted it would show if Miguel was upset…

"Paid vacation," Miguel broke into a grin. "Might as well make the best of it. Want to swim a few laps? I could help you clean up that Freestyle."

"Ha," Lucas shrugged. "What do you know about swimming?"

"I swam at the Academy," Miguel retorted with mock injured pride. "I know Butterfly from Breaststroke, buddy. If we had more space, I'd teach you some diving too."

"Sure," Lucas laughed, "I bet you were fast. What was I doing wrong?"

"Well," Miguel smiled to himself at Lucas' reaction to the sensors specialist's little-known talent, "first of all you're really fast, but conserving energy will make you even faster. That's where your elbows come in…"

Murph came in about ten minutes later, surprised to find the Moonpool churning as Miguel and Lucas swam fast laps. He set up his tripod and took a few shots of the two while he waited for Cassie and Martha.

"Oh, hi, Lucas!" Martha called out as she entered the area minutes later.

Both Lucas and Miguel pulled up short, mid-lap, standing on the shallow bottom of the pool to blink up at their unnoticed observers.

"Hi, Martha," Lucas responded politely, slightly embarrassed when he had to gasp for air. He had worked himself much harder than he was used to. "Hey, Cassie."

"Hi, Lucas," Cassie came over to the water's edge and began searching for Darwin. "Where's the dolphin?"

"He got bored," Lucas answered. "Did you come to see him? I can call him."

"Not yet-," Murph called from behind his camera. It was then that Cassie realized that Murph was clicking away.

"Oh, he gets like this sometimes," Cassandra explained, making a face. "He takes tons of photos, but only keeps one or two; sometimes he'll reject all of them. It's just a compulsion when he gets some crazy idea for a story or photo series."

"Oh," Lucas looked up warily at the continually snapping shutter, then shook his hair out before slicking it back impatiently. "Um, are you coming in, then?"

"Yeah, sure," Cassie climbed in and Martha followed suit. "Can Darwin come back now, Murph?"

"Yeah, Oka-ay," Murph drawled reluctantly. He snapped a few more photos, moving around the pool, then gave up. "Call the dolphin. I'll take some of him for you."

"Are you writing about Darwin?" Lucas began to warm to the journalists as he realized that they shared an interest. "I can tell you some of what he's done on the seaQuest."

"Oh, excellent," Martha replied warmly. "That would be very helpful."

As the three began to chat in the water and Darwin appeared in the entrance to the Moonpool, Miguel discreetly exited with a quick wave in Lucas' direction. He had some work to do of his own, and headed to his quarters to begin. This might be a very interesting vacation, Miguel mused. In fact, if he was right, it might be one of the most interesting of his life.

&&&&&


	4. Chapter 4

Restricted

Chapter Four

Enjoy!

&&&&&

Captain Bridger had been arguing with Admiral Noyce for a good half an hour before they both became frustrated and ended the conversation. As much as Bridger understood the importance of cooperation and oversight during this critical period of intense public scrutiny, particularly since so many favors had already been called in to keep his crew as intact as possible for this tour, Carter was proving more than the captain could stomach. Judiciously, Bridger was maintaining a supportive and polite demeanor in front of the crew, including the observer whose rank had begun to muddy suspiciously into 'untouchable' status. However, behind closed doors, Captain Nathan Bridger was infuriated. And, as he had not-so-subtly threatened his longtime friend Noyce, there would be action taken on seaQuest if Carter got in the way during anything even remotely resembling a crisis.

The captain wondered if it was bad that he had begun hoping for a crisis.

'I need to get out and stretch my legs,' Bridger mused. He had a vague sense that all was not well with his crew, and he instinctively gravitated toward Commander Ford whenever he wanted a briefing on the Bridge operations during Bridger's own off-hours. 'He'll be working with Shan, no doubt,' Bridger nodded to himself. 'A workout wouldn't be a mistake for me, either. Blow off some steam before my dinner with Carter.'

Sighing deeply, Bridger kneaded his own neck muscles as he stood up from his desk. The very thought of one more dinner and discussion with the rigid young bureaucrat was enough to send his lower back into a spasm. Perhaps, Bridger mused absently, this was not a normal reaction to stress. 'How would I have dealt with Tobias before the hostage situation?' Bridger wondered. But, since there would be no Carter without the hostage situation, he dismissed his own line of questioning as flawed… 'By trusting my instincts, no doubt,' Bridger decided. 'Time to get back on that horse and see what I can do to protect my crew… Even if that does mean letting Lucas go.'

It was no secret that the teenager's presence on the seaQuest had required the greatest concessions on the parts of both captain and crew. Or that Dr. Westphalen had put her foot down so decisively on the subject (Lucas _was not_ to be put into any position of stress or responsibility outside of his primary scientific duties, she had insisted, nor used in any way as a bargaining chip with the UEO) that Bridger had not been able to negotiate much with the several high-ranking officials who had conferred about the 'steps to be taken' regarding the seaQuest's new tour of duty. But, Bridger was quickly realizing, this was not a tenable long-term position on a military vessel. First and foremost, he needed to be responsible for his crew; his _military_ crew.

'Besides,' Bridger thought suddenly, almost annoyed at not having put this together sooner in his own mind, 'if Kristin is so concerned about Lucas, then _she_ can deal with the fallout from his actions. He is a science officer, and she is fully in charge of all science personnel for the duration of this tour. I have to be able to focus on my responsibilities without my hands being tied.'

Thus resolved and feeling relieved, though slightly guilty about the potential consequences for Lucas, Bridger took one last deep breath before striding off into the corridor to find Commander Ford.

&&&&&

"Run it again," Ford shouted down to Shan, who was operating the brand-new simulator room for the Commander and Lieutenant O'Neill's training session.

"Sir!" O'Neill called up from his position on the lower level of the cavernous simulator room, "I suggest we try flanking and sharpshooting from behind, maximizing the drift of the heavier ammunition."

"Only if you can take out the first three with no more than three shots," Ford replied with a game grin. "You know this scenario has no margin for error. But yes, the drift does have some interesting possibilities, I agree."

"There's no drift to speak of!" Shan shouted up at Ford. "These weapons are top of the line, and whatever you are sensing is your inexperience. Definitely not a drift."

"Something's not calibrated," Ford shot back, clearly enjoying the exchange immensely. "Watch this."

Ford fired a shot at a target, narrowly missing the center.

"Your aim is off," Shan stated firmly.

"The projectile drifted," Tim asserted. "Watch me shoot."

The second bullet landed almost on top of the first.

"That would have been even closer to Commander Ford's shot if our angle had been the same," Tim answered Shan's questioning expression. "I was aiming for the same target. It's the longer-range shots that show the most drift, but it's significant and uniform enough that we may be able to use it if we're sharpshooting."

"You two are ridiculous," Shan responded, but he was starting to respond to their enthusiasm with a grin of his own. "I'm joining your marksman practices from now on."

"Every afternoon; anyone's welcome," Ford gestured expansively with his weapon.

"Every afternoon?" Captain Bridger walked into the simulator room at that moment. "With live ammunition, Jonathan?"

"No, sir," Commander Ford straightened up proudly at the appearance of the captain. "We only use live rounds for our simulator work with Officer Shan."

"Good; that stuff is expensive!" Bridger looked around the large area. "Mind if I join you for a while?"

"Um," Lieutenant O'Neill couldn't prevent the hesitant syllable before it popped out.

"What?" Bridger looked from one man to the next. "Am I interrupting?"

"These are lethal weapons, Captain," Officer Shan explained. "You would have to attend special trainings with me, under close supervision, before you could participate in any scenarios in this simulator room."

"Lethal," Bridger echoed, nodding slowly. He was suddenly serious, losing his competitive, fun-loving mood for the time being. "I see. I really dropped by to ask how things went on the Bridge today, as a matter of fact. Then I'll leave you to your… war games."

"Actually, sir," Ford bristled at Bridger's obvious disapproval, which had been clear in his tone as he clipped out the phrase 'war games,' but immediately channeled his irritation into what he had to explain to the captain, "Carter relieved Ortiz of duty. Indefinitely."

"He _what?_" Bridger did not know what he had expected, but this was unimaginable. "What happened? On whose authority?!"

"Lucas, um," Ford hesitated as he realized how silly the situation had been, "swam in through Darwin's aquatube. Unfortunately, Carter showed up at about the same time, and when Miguel tried to speak up on Lucas' behalf, Carter relieved him of duty. Krieg is helping cover the Bridge while Carter assigns a few crewmembers to extra trainings. Presumably so that he can replace any of us at whim."

"It's just as well that I can't join you today," Bridger's dark tone was steady with resolve. "I need to call someone back right away."

As the Captain left, O'Neill shot Ford an impressed glance. When the door swung safely shut, he voiced his opinion: "I'm glad I'm not Admiral Noyce."

Nobody spoke for a few moments.

"From the top, then?" Shan broke the silence cheerfully.

&&&&&

Dr. Westphalen was having a hard time adjusting to being back on the seaQuest. Unlike the rest of the crew, who seemed to fall easily into their former routines with near-visible expressions of relief, Kristin Westphalen had gradually found herself less and less willing to sit back and be the good little researcher that her position called for. In fact, the new aspect of her position that involved personnel was taking far too much of her attention; Kristin wanted things to change. Things felt as if they should somehow be different; perhaps improved in some way or another, but mostly just different. People needed to acknowledge what had happened in a real way. The policies and procedures had changed to an extent, Kristin was forced to admit, but she wanted some changes that would be much more radical.

First, Kristin would not feel comfortable until Lucas was off of seaQuest. It had taken her a long time to admit that to herself, but once she had it seemed obvious: with everything that had happened, who could deny that this was an unfit environment for a teenager? It was unsafe in the extreme. Secondly, Kristin felt that the Bridge crew had far too much responsibility placed on each individual. Dividing Bridge shifts in half might not allow for the best and brightest to constantly be manning those stations, but surely the bright-enough would always be in supply. It just seemed wise to break authority into smaller and smaller units. Hedging bets, she liked to think. In case of an emergency, there would be no privileged persons – and no _targeted_ persons. Every member of the crew would be as capable as possible, and none more capable than his or her crewmates. It seemed a plausible scenario to the doctor, and she wondered why the military did not seem to accept her way of thinking. 'Bridger doesn't, anyway, though he might as well be the whole Navy as far as the seaQuest is concerned,' Kristin thought darkly.

Kristin was not so absorbed in her new duties that she did not recognize her own recent shortcomings, though. Her guilt very much resembled her list of wants: she'd been leaving Lucas far too free and undirected with his research, and she had not been able to implement much of a schedule for her science teams. Granted, the teams were very autonomous, and Lucas did tend to be self-directed… but still, without supervision and guidance, any scientist could run into workplace drama or even a problem as simple as procrastination. Kristin had seen highly qualified laboratory teams fall apart over less.

Deciding almost guiltily to prioritize her scientific teams above her supervision of Lucas, Kristin justified the triage by reminding herself that she really did not want Lucas aboard – and that was a level of negativity that Lucas probably should not be around while he was working. An implausible stretch of the imagination, even in her unspoken thoughts, but a justification she was eager to believe in.

'Besides,' Kristin mused in annoyance, 'Nathan will already have Lucas under his wing by now; surely the boy can do without me for a week or two.'

It did occur to Kristin that she was letting her feelings about seaQuest distance her from the captain and Lucas, both of whom were two close friends; however, since that distance was created by concern for their safety and the safety of everyone on the boat, it didn't seem like it should be a problem. Well-meant concern could only be a positive force, right?

Getting back to work at her console, Kristin began reconfiguring the labs for a new analysis of salinity levels near a coastal settlement that relied heavily on fishing as a source of food. There was some concern that runoff and pollution had begun reducing salinity in the shallower parts of the region, which drove several oceanic species deeper into the ocean and out of reach of the fishermen; there was also some talk of their findings being used to design a bill regulating certain 'clean'-but-potentially-damaging industrial runoff procedures. It was important to have productive teams working on every aspect of this potentially high-profile and environmentally significant project, and Kristin was determined to do her best in assigning scientists in groups that would be particularly effective.

"Doctor Westphalen?" Tobias Carter walked into the lab. "Would you mind terribly… I really need to talk to someone, and the onboard psychologist seems to be booked solid for the next several weeks."

"That's not surprising," Kristin's tone was dry. It only reinforced her opinion: all was not as it should be on seaQuest. "Are you in crisis, though? It really would be better for you to speak with Norman if this is anything serious."

"Oh no. Actually, you'd be perfect," Carter confessed. "I'm trying to work with the crew to make things… safer. Smoother, less pressured, and more reliant on procedure and protocol. Taking some of the thinking out of the process so that they can focus more on the creative aspects of their jobs and not waste energy on every silly decision. But I feel as though I'm creating problems and not connecting with them well. I wondered what you could tell me about them, and maybe even what exactly happened here on the seaQuest."

"Oh, Mr. Carter," Kristin exclaimed, "has nobody briefed you?"

"The specifics are kept highly confidential. In part because of the exclusivity of the embedded journalists' contract, if nothing else," Tobias shrugged. "I know the bare minimum, and I feel like I just keep stepping in it."

"Well," Kristin mulled this over for a few moments, "we may be able to help each other. You see, I have a few frustrations with the crew as well."

"Really?" Tobias Carter pulled up a lab chair and settled in for what promised to be a fruitful discussion. "What are your concerns?"

&&&&&

Captain Bridger reentered his quarters, angrily opened a vidlink, and drummed his fingers on his desk while he waited for Noyce to respond to his insistent summons.

"Nathan?" Noyce looked startled when he answered the link. "How did you hear already?"

"Hear? I asked Ford what was going on! Did you think I wouldn't hear?!" Nathan had been prepared for almost any reaction to his anger, but not for Noyce to already know about the situation on his own Bridge.

"No-o," Noyce seemed profoundly uncomfortable now. "I was going to contact you as soon as we had more information."

"That wasn't enough information for you?" Bridger demanded. "What more did you need to hear? That he was keelhauling people?"

"Nathan!" Noyce's exclamation was more scandalized than it should have been, Bridger realized too late. "I have always recognized that your humanitarian impulses exceed those of the average person, but even so-,"

"Wait, Bill, what are you talking about?" Bridger was abruptly businesslike as he realized that this was quite possibly a larger situation than his own personnel problems. "Who have I offended horribly this time?"

"You're not talking about the Solathian occupation?" Noyce seemed to contain his affront just long enough to ask this question.

"Carter relieved Lieutenant Ortiz from Bridge duty." Bridger stated it matter-of-factly as he realized there was an international incident brewing and that his crew was likely about to become quite involved. "Are the Solathians finally carrying out-,"

"It's genocide, albeit on a small scale, and of course we can't call it that on record," Noyce nodded. "Nothing has happened yet, but the majority faction has begun to move in a concerted manner and we think they want it to be over with before anyone can get into position to stop them."

"Who did you think I was talking about…?" Nathan asked curiously. Then the ghost of a wry smile flitted across his features as the nature of the miscommunication became clear to him.

"Fletcher," Noyce shrugged, referring to a diplomat in the Solathian regions whom Bridger disliked and tended to rail against effusively whenever the diplomat released a weak or vague official statement regarding the political state of the regions. It was common knowledge that Captain Bridger believed the man was building himself a tropical paradise that was at once physically removed from, and financially supported by, the natives of the region. That, Bridger felt, was the reason for his ineffectual five years in the area as a diplomat. The crises had continued to develop as if the UEO was not a presence in the area, and Fletcher continued to downplay the seriousness of the local conflicts in favor of keeping any further UEO representatives from entering what he regarded as his own territory. "We don't think his district is involved with any of the genocide, but he's not getting involved or providing us with any information. He may be in the dark, it's always possible, but we're going to need his cooperation to get your men in. We want to attempt a protective mission to save as many as we can."

"How large is the group we're supposed to protect?" Bridger asked skeptically.

"The one group we are absolutely certain is in danger consists of about thirty members of the highest ranking family in the tribe," Noyce referred to the endangered natives of the Solathian region. "You would merely be moving in to protect them and to hold the area until UEO forces could move in. Clear evidence of wrongdoing would be enough to justify a full-scale intervention on our part."

"I see," Bridger frowned, thinking of the danger to his crew, but nodded decisively. "I'll meet with my officers in an hour. First, there are a few things I'd like your department to get for me, including maps of the region and blueprints of the major buildings this faction has access to."

"Whatever you need."

&&&&&

It had been an uphill battle that lasted almost an entire day, but in the end Bridger had been able to handpick the team that was to go into the Solathian territories. Well, almost handpick.

"Carter said _what?_" Miguel's abruptly-strengthened accent hinted that he would like to continue the conversation in Spanish, but he had not lost his temper yet and opted to politely wait until he next saw Tobias to let loose the phrases crowding into his mind at that moment. "I will not be going with Commander Ford _or_ returning to duty on the Bridge until the conflict is resolved? Does he know that this is the type of situation where resolution is probably centuries from now, when the factions have intermarried to the extent that it's a moot point?" Ortiz's voice rose in panic as he watched the Captain's expression: it did not alter, which meant there was no possibility of Bridger's countermanding this order.

"Are you willing to stick this out, Miguel, or do I need to reassign you temporarily?" Bridger sympathized deeply, and seethed inwardly about the fact that he'd been bullied into making this one concession in order to get the rest of his orders followed on this mission. It was unheard of to send an enforcement team of any kind off of the seaQuest without the benefit of Ortiz's intuitive expertise in all things reconnaissance and combat. "At least you'd be busy."

"That would delay my return to the Bridge, wouldn't it?" Ortiz was well aware of how much paperwork would be involved in a reassignment. Very little would have to be done to 'demote' the officer off of the Bridge, but it would be a nightmare getting back onto Bridge rotation once he'd been absorbed into another unit of the sensors' divisions on seaQuest. It simply was not done lightly. "No, thank you. I'll just stay on the bench until I'm needed."

"You are needed," Bridger stated shortly, dropping a hand reassuringly on the dejected officer's shoulder. "That is not the issue."

"I know," Miguel met the captain's apologetic gaze with a weak, reassuring smile of his own. "I'll survive. But let me know the moment you can use me on the Bridge."

"Absolutely," Nathan nodded. "It will be soon."

Miguel left the Captain's quarters, frustrated and concerned for the safety of his crewmates who would be in danger while he was left behind. However, even as he felt his temper rise, he also recognized that it would not be helpful to have his comrades concerned for his emotional well-being. With that thought, Miguel made a decision and headed for Lucas' quarters – a swim might do both of them good, and Miguel was eager to follow up with the youth after the previous day's swimming session.

&&&&&

"We're going without Ortiz? With lethal weapons?" A junior officer asked Commander Ford immediately after he had briefed his team. Lieutenant O'Neill would be leading the second team, in part because he was the only other officer with as much training with the new weapons on seaQuest, and in part because Ford had insisted upon it when Bridger had consulted with him. The captain and commander had presented a united front on this point, at least, when it became clear that Carter was not going to back down about Ortiz' suspension from any high-profile duty, though Ford was still puzzled about the fact that Dr. Westphalen had almost seemed to be on Carter's side – against Captain Bridger. That division among the seaQuest crew itself had not helped anyone's case when Noyce and several other Admirals were called in to arbitrate the sensitive decision-making process. In retaliation, Bridger had refused to allow Shan to lead a third team, but Ford had immediately offered to absorb Shan into his own team and that issue had been resolved sensibly. 'Live are at stake,' Ford reflected as he considered how best to answer the young officer's valid concern. 'This is not the time to discuss personal power struggles.'

"Yes, we are," Jonathan Ford leveled his gaze at the officer and mustered all the empathy he could for his charge. Now was the time for reassurance. "But if I have anything to say about it, you will not be firing a weapon. O'Neill and I have gone over our approach in great detail, and I believe that he and I will be able to handle the situation. You are there first and foremost as escorts and tour guides for the Solathian family. Are we clear?" Ford looked up to include the rest of his team of eight in his earnest gaze. "Even if I have to zip-tie your weapons into your holsters, you will not fire a lethal weapon under my command. Not this time."

Shan's expression was remarkably noncommittal, Ford noted approvingly, considering the commander had just uttered absolute anathema regarding a combat situation. But Ford intended to let people live or die for this decision: a precedent was about to made, in a combat situation, and Ford was going to make a statement. If he had anything to say about it, then the UEO would not willingly take up lethal firearms at the first sign of trouble. As a last resort, if at all, Ford would allow but severely limit the shots taken. And, if they were successful, he would lobby long and hard against lethal weapons. After all, this mission would receive world press for weeks, if not months, particularly considering the political climate that had been brewing around this region for the last several decades. Furthermore, Ford could not bear the idea that his actions might exploit future generations of civilians and soldiers who would be forced to live with the specter of lethal weapons as the standard weapon of the UEO indefinitely if nobody took a stand at this crucial moment in military history.

Captain Bridger did not know of this decision on the parts of his senior officers. Ford and O'Neill had cautiously decided only to reveal it to their teams during this, their only briefing. It was thirty minutes before they left seaQuest and two hours before they were literally on the ground and attempting their mission. Whatever came of this decision, the captain would not be blamed.

"Any questions?" Ford did not smile when the shell-shocked officers' mouths hung open and nobody dared speak. He would save the smiling for when they had successfully led the prominent Solathian family to safety.

&&&&&

I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reviewing; I always enjoy your reactions!

-Hari


	5. Chapter 5

Restricted

Chapter Six

I know, updates are few and far between these days… life and all that stuff… but enjoy! Thank you for all the fantastic feedback and suggestions!

-Hari

Martha Weaver could not believe her eyes – or her ears. She and Cassandra had gone to Murph's quarters to watch the teams emerge from debriefing and the civilians released from quarantine (there had been some concern about the living conditions of the hostages, including an infectious, flea-borne flu that had emerged in the Solathian regions the previous winter) on the world news. Unfortunately, despite the journalists' guarantee of exclusivity on the seaQuest itself, the crewmembers were now separated from the submarine and the three were forced to watch as other journalists crowded around Ford and O'Neill, begging for statements regarding what was rumored to be one of the most controversial and potentially politically influential military actions taken in the last century. However, it seemed that the crewmembers had not forgotten their journalists in all of the excitement:

"We have plenty of comments," Commander Ford was flashing a grin at the horde of interviewers pressing microphones toward him. "However, you will have to wait until the full write-up is released by Weaver, Miley, and Murphy. Thank you for your interest and support; this operation was politically explosive and every UEO citizen should be paying close attention to this issue."

"He's waiting for us," Murph crowed, jumping up from his bed and letting out a feral whoop. "This is going to be harcore!"

"Um," Cassie seemed a little more cautious about celebrating, "we're responsible for the entire public perception of this operation? For the whole world? On the, oh, little tiny subject of _lethal weapons_?"

Martha was glad that someone saw the problem. "Yes, we are. We have three days before they return. Start researching and soul-searching, because we have to make a decision: we are being offered exclusive rights to the details, but it may be irresponsible to accept this time."

"You're kidding," Murph gaped at the journalists.

"And you're a photographer," Martha's response was pointed, but her tone was gentle. "We're a team and I'd like for us to have a united front. Three days is not much time, but we should take it and make the best decision possible."

Murph looked to Cassie, whose shrug and nod indicated agreement with Martha.

"Is it bad decision-making if I already know my answer?" Murph sighed as he realized that he was in danger of being outvoted.

"Not at all," Martha smiled ruefully. "It's only bad decision-making if your opinion is not subject to change. Three days."

The two writers left Murph for their respective quarters. The photographer turned off the vid-screen and reached for his camera. Compulsively clicking the shutter and fiddling with flash speeds, he began to consider the ramifications of being the sole team in charge of the public's perception of a lifetime (or several generations' lifetimes) of heightened potential for violence.

Hit by inspiration, Murph flipped the vid-link back on. 'I bet I can get ahold of _This Is Not A Test_. That's what we're dealing with here.' Quickly locating the ancient film through a search engine, the photographer sat back to watch.

&&&&&

"Another lap?" Miguel encouraged Lucas, who was lying on the edge of the Moonpool and staring at the ceiling.

"I can't breathe," Lucas gasped out, laughing as he did so. "Give me a second."

The two had been swimming laps, informally racing each other in between horsing around in the shallow end of the pool, for over an hour. Miguel was feeling fairly energized for his part, but had to admit that, being off-duty and frustrated, his workouts had turned him into a swimmer who greatly resembled his college-aged, competition-level self. What felt exhilarating to him might end up with Lucas passing out due to exhaustion.

"Drink some more water," Miguel advised, making his way to the teenager. "You're losing a lot of fluids, and you might not feel it until you're actually dehydrated."

"Not likely after all that Butterfly," Lucas quipped. "The breathing is just counter-intuitive; sooner or later you will have to admit it!"

"You just have to get used to it," Miguel laughed. "That's salt water, though – you need to actually be hydrating."

"OK, OK, OK," Lucas pushed himself up and moved toward the water bottles that Miguel had thoughtfully brought along to their workout session. "I'm drinking the water."

"Want to time us this time?" Miguel watched Lucas drink thirstily – once the water hit his throat, the teen realized that he had indeed been parched.

"Whatever," Lucas had to catch his breath a second time when he came up for air from his water bottle. "If I beat you at swimming and nobody clocks it, did it actually happen?"

"Come on," Miguel patted a hand against the surface of the water, not acknowledging Lucas' joking challenge. "It's cold; I need to keep moving."

Lucas walked back to the edge of the pool and set up the jury-rigged timer that Miguel had designed.

"Ready?" Miguel reached over and poised one hand above the timer.

"Doing that will slow you down," Lucas protested. "I am going to beat you fairly."

"I'll do it," Cassandra spoke up. She'd been watching the two banter for a few moments; while walking past the Moonpool, the noise had caught her attention. "You're timing yourselves?"

"Yeah…" Miguel looked up at Cassie. "Be as accurate as possible, OK?"

"No problem," Cassandra was glad to be doing something other than pacing in her quarters, debating journalistic ethics and the fate of the world. "So, you ready?"

The two got into position and Cassie counted them down.

&&&&&

"This is maddening," Bridger confided in Toby. The two were having another dinner, but had seemingly found some common ground.

"Yes; they should have been sent straight back to us," Carter was as frustrated as Bridger about the delays facing Ford's and O'Neill's teams. Apparently their refusal to debrief formally was creating a stir, the UEO was concerned about their insistence on talking to the journalists on SeaQuest, and it had already been a week and a half since their three days' ETA had passed. "Shall we arrange a conference call, involving Ford and Noyce? Between you and me, surely we can be persuasive."

The common ground was in danger of disappearing, Bridger knew, but he actually found that he respected the fact that Carter was very adept at pushing his agenda through when he was motivated.

"Let me think about that," the captain decided to consider the offer. "In theory, they'll be back in another day or so. I want to believe Noyce about that; but if any other delays come up, I just may take you up on that offer."

"Absolutely," Toby nodded agreeably. "Now, I know you also wanted to discuss Hitchcock's three-day suspension from the Bridge…"

'There goes the common ground,' Bridger groaned inwardly. He braced himself for yet another battle with the young man across the table from him.

&&&&&

"That's 100 meters, man," Murph and Ortiz walked into the mess hall together, having a lively conversation. "Cassie measured it."

"No way," Miguel laughed loudly, causing the other crewmembers in the hall who were eating to look up at the charismatic pair. "That would mean that both Lucas and I were within spitting distance of the current world record."

"Cassie says-," Murph protested, but Miguel cut him off.

"We'd need better equipment to figure that out for sure."

Murph regarded the sensors officer for a moment, frowning at what he saw in Miguel's expression. "Wait a minute. You think you are. That's why you've been swimming all the time for the last couple of weeks."

Miguel raised an eyebrow, signaling agreement, an unwillingness to talk about it at the moment, and that there was more to the story.

"You're insane," Murph grinned. "But I'll time you if you want; I've got all sorts of equipment that would work."

"Thanks," Miguel smiled and reached for some food. "But man, I'm going to need better food than this to make good time in the water!"

"Ha, this isn't gourmet enough for you?" Murph jostled the officer playfully as the two looked for a seat in the mess hall.

Neither noticed that Martha had entered the mess hall behind them, but enigmatically left again without getting anything to eat.

&&&&&

"Dr. Westphalen!" Lucas broke into a run when he caught sight of the researcher walking down the hall ahead of him. It had been almost six weeks since Lucas had had the chance to really check in with Kristin, and while he had several projects he'd been working with, he wanted to concert them and pick up the pace. That meant he needed permission to use more equipment in the lab.

"Lucas?" Westphalen turned on her heel as Wolenczak ran up behind her. "What is it?"

"Um," Lucas was surprised at her nonchalance. Usually she was hounding him to check in if it had been more than a week since they had a full sit-down about his progress. Something about oversight and directing youthful energy; Lucas hated the lecture because it made him feel like an absent-minded child who needed a mother looking over his shoulder, but he'd heard it often enough to know that something wasn't as it should be with the doctor if he hadn't heard from her in over a month. Nevertheless, Lucas was shocked when his own words came out angrily, dripping with sarcasm. "What do you _think_ I want to talk about?"

Kristin frowned deeply and turned to leave.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Lucas demanded, resisting the urge to grab the doctor and force her to look him in the eye. "Why are you avoiding me? What is going on?"

"Look, Lucas, can you go to the captain for whatever you need right now?" Kristin leveled a stare at the young officer, finally meeting his eyes coldly. "I'm very busy, and I think you know very well that I'd like you to take a week off from the lab; we are simply too busy with the environmental concerns raised by the colony's runoff to allocate any space or equipment to your word games."

"You actually told Brandon to tell me that," Lucas stated flatly, shock overcoming his frustrated anger. "I thought that was a practical joke. And…" Lucas couldn't bring himself to respond to Kristin's clipped phrase, 'word games.'

Feeling only the slightest pang as Lucas sputtered in disbelief and quickly-growing anger, Kristin reminded herself of her convictions: the sooner Lucas was off of SeaQuest, the better. And it was true; the lab truly did not have the space for his haphazard, stream-of-consciousness methods at the moment.

"Talk to me in two weeks," Kristin dismissed Lucas. "Take a vacation; swim with Darwin for a while, and be a teenager."

Kristin's familiar admonishment felt nothing less than insulting this time. Lucas' eyes narrowed and he straightened up defiantly.

"Yes, sir." Lucas saluted, met Kristin's furious reaction to his pointed response with an angry glare of his own, and walked away quickly.

'If Captain Bridger wasn't avoiding me,' Lucas fumed as he strode through the ship, 'maybe I _would_ go to him. But he keeps sending me to Dr. Westphalen.' It suddenly occurred to him that this might not be accidental.

With the weight of that thought, Lucas stopped short. Alone in the corridor, his mind racing, he abruptly doubled over.

&&&&&

"Where's Lucas?" Murph had finally assembled equipment that he felt would be accurate enough to determine whether or not Miguel's suspicions were true.

"I don't know; I didn't tell him we'd be here," Miguel confessed. "He's just always here, so I figured it was a safe bet. Something's messed up in the science departments and everyone who isn't working on the salinization problem is more or less on hiatus for the next couple of weeks."

"That sounds… claustrophobic," Murph gestured at the walls of the room. "Trapped on a submarine with nothing productive to do? This can't be good for the crew's morale."

"What about you?" Miguel asked, deflecting the question. "I mean, OK, I'm not on the Bridge, Katie's still fighting with Carter about the three-day suspension without an end, and Bridger's got the boat parked here until Ford and O'Neill's teams are released. That means you're stuck here, too, with no story; don't pretend this doesn't affect you, journalistic distance or no."

"What do you mean, no story?" Murph laughed bitterly. "I've got the story of a lifetime on its way, if I can convince my partners to actually write about it. Oh, and I've got two wannabe swim champions to photograph. My seascapes have never been better, and I've caught up on all my correspondence from the last three years. Life is great!"

"Exactly," Miguel nodded, responding to the photographer's sarcasm. "So don't act like you're not implicated."

"That's it," Murph froze.

"That's what?" Miguel hauled himself out of the frigid water. "Hey, I'm going to go find Lucas, OK?"

"Yeah," Murph did not move.

"Murph?" Miguel asked curiously when Murph's expression changed from contemplative to euphoric to deeply concerned in the space of a few seconds.

"Go find Lucas," Murph abruptly snapped into action. "I'm getting Cassandra and Martha. I think I know what we're going to do!"

&&&&&

Confused, Miguel felt keyed up by Murph's energy as he went to find Lucas. The photographer was clearly feeling the stress of the situation they had all found themselves in… but his extremely mellow temperament had enabled him to be a voice of reason to all for the last several weeks. This abrupt burst of energy had to be meaningful – if for no other reason, then because Miguel needed _something_ to be meaningful on the boat right about now!

Bounding up another flight of steps toward Lucas' quarters, Ortiz was brought to a halt when he encountered a shocking sight.

Lucas was dry-heaving in the middle of the corridor.

"Whoa!" Miguel hesitated for a moment while he surveyed the scene for any potential danger, then approached Lucas cautiously. "Lucas! Are you sick? Are you hurt?"

Lucas choked, startled by the sudden appearance of his crewmate. He began coughing hard, feeling his stomach abruptly settle in the same moment.

"Hey, easy there," Miguel put an arm around Lucas as the two slid into a seated position, leaning against the wall. "Breathe."

"They want me off," Lucas could not believe how steady his voice was when he spoke. "The captain and Doctor Westphalen want me off of SeaQuest. They're working together to get me off."

Miguel did not answer, his emotions regarding the last few weeks finally flooding him as he realized that he didn't know if he could refute Lucas' claim. Everything was messed up, that's all that was certain.

Surprised by his friend's lack of response, Lucas looked up to study Miguel's expression. The older officer looked tired, and he looked defeated.

Lucas inhaled deeply, releasing the air in a shuddering sigh that ended with a loud hiccup. Miguel turned toward him, tucked the younger officer's head under his chin, and they rested there, each deep in his own thoughts.

&&&&&


End file.
